Wednesday, May 2, 2012

You just
never know what is going to come out of a five year olds mouth. Expecially,
when that five year old is my daughter and follows me around on a regular
basis.

She has
taught me to choose my words carefully more than once.

On this
particular story though it wasn’t exactly what I said as much as how she put it
together.

You see it
was fall time and we had just pulled the bulls away from my registered cows and
doing such caused my big bull to pace the fence wanting to get back to his
girl.

As we were
driving by one day my daughter looked up at me innocently and asked
inquisitively, ”Mom, why does Muscle Man always walk the fence?” Muscle Man was
our bulls name. He was a big black Glebvieh bull who was all muscle from the
tip of his nose to his big round bubble butt.

“Well
honey,” I started knowing full well that she could hear the truth and have no
problems with it. “He is horny.” She looked at me like I had just made all the
sense in the world, I love that look.

I was
feeling pretty good about my explanation until Monday rolled around. As usual I
watched the school bus pull in to the driveway and my daughter step off. I
watched as she picked up her cat and looked over her shoulder at Muscle Man as
he made a lap by the house.

“Stop
being so horny!” She yelled across the driveway. The bull paid her little
attention and continued with his path.

Once
inside the house she looked at me with a sly grin. “I told all my friends about
Muscle Man today.” My heart sank.

“Yeah?”

“Yep and
they said they don’t believe I have a horny Muscle Man at home.” She innocently
said.

I about
fell over laughing. “And what did you say to that?” I asked.

“That they
were jealous and just wished their mom had a horny muscle man at home, too.”

“I am sure
that was it.” I smiled as every red blooded American woman should have a horny
muscle man at home, even if they are just walking her fences.

It was
springtime on our ranch and with spring time comes green grass and with green
grass comes fresh horses. It just seems to go hand in hand, don’t ask me why
but it does.

Every
spring I seem to be doing the same old thing, like it or not. I am the gal who
gets to see what the saddle horses have forgotten over the long, cold winter
months.

I had
three gelding in the trailer that morning and all three full of piss and
vinegar clean up to their ears. They were fat and sassy and full of themselves.

I am not
much of a round pen person. I use a round pen for a few things but try to keep
my time there limited. Once I get a little buck out of a horse then I like to
take them out to the hills and work them.

The first
of the three had no squabbles, he took everything like he was an old trooper. I
ran him a quick lap on the ground around the round pen and satisfied the
bucking was going to be minimal I climbed aboard.

He walked
a little gingerly but kept his back straight. I walked him about five laps and
broke him into a trot, he humped up his back and kicked up his heels but that
was all he had. After two more laps at a trot we broke into a lope and finally
I opened the gate and headed him up the road.

We rode
for about a half hour until I saw sweat glistening on his neck. He hadn’t done
anything wrong so I turned him and headed back to the round pen.

Pulling my
saddle I tied him to the trailer and unloaded the next gelding, a four year
old, and walked him to the round pen.

I saddled
him and stood out of his way as he leapt for the sky five or six times. I
worked him another two laps and satisfied it was all out climbed aboard. He
moved out eagerly. We did the same routine as I did with the first one, walk a
little, trot and then lope. I soon opened the gate and took him up the road he
was eager to get out and stepped out great. I had no fears that he was ready
for the year at hand.

When we
had finished our ride I returned to the trailer for the final horse. A big,
strapping, six year, old appaloosa gelding. We got to the round pen, saddled up
and he refused to move off. I knew what that meant, he had a secret that he
didn’t want to show me just yet.

With a
twirl of the lead rope he was off, snorting and bucking like he had never
carried a saddle before in his life. I quickly grabbed the stock whip and
cracked it in the air a few time to take his mind off of bucking. It worked. He
straightened out and ran laps. I asked him to change directions and again he
took to bucking. I cracked the whip again and he ran straight.

After
about fifteen minutes of snorting and bucking at every change of direction I
must confess I got a little irked. So I grabbed the bridle and slipped it on
him gave the cinch a tug and stepped aboard. He gave a snort and bucked three hops.
I matched his hops with hard kicks to his side, finally he got the message and
trotted smooth around the pen.

Then I
opened the gate and headed him towards the farthest cattle pasture at a long
trot. I knew the cows in that pasture needed to be moved and with him acting
like a spring idiot I was going to make him work.

About a
mile later we pulled up at the pasture gate. He was huffing, puffing and still
looking for home. I opened and closed the gate and got back on.

As I came
full astride and before I could get my second foot in the stirrup he lowered
his head and lit to bucking again. I sucked swell with my knees and used the
reins as an over and under. He ran full length of the branding corral fence
with his side to the boards. I caught a couple splinters on my lower leg and
cussed the day of his birth.

He kept
bucking and I kept the over and under going until he straightened out and hit a
full run across the pasture. I dropped my legs, found my stirrups and let
that son of a buck run.

The next
gate came into view so I slowed him and he seemed eager to obey. As we reached
the gate I stepped off and opened the gate and laid it back along the fence.
This was the gate the cows were going to come through to get into the pasture
what we just run across.

I sucked
up the inside rein and climbed aboard my bronc expecting the worst. He never
moved, he stood rock solid breathing like a freight train as I got on and
quickly found my off stirrup. I sighed a deep sigh of relief as he walked off
towards the back of the pasture as if he knew now what I wanted.

We rode
another hour rounding up the cattle and pushing them towards the gate. They
went good until we started across the last small meadow before the gate.

In this meadow was a small man made pond, the
last water hole before the new pasture, and all the cows stood around it
getting a drink. My gelding and I stood a short distance away waiting for them
to drink.

Finally
when the cows were all done we started in towards them at a slow walk. My dog
circled the far side of the pond and eagerly moved the cows off the edge.

We
successfully had all the cattle pushed away from water and heading towards the
gate when a big black bull saw my dog. He started for him and without thinking
I gave a hard kick to the gelding and started to head the bull off from my dog.

About three quarters of the
way to interception of the bull and my dog I heard a very subtle sounding ting.
I knew the sound instantly…… wire.

A small
hunk of barbed wire flew by my face and to my udder shock landed on the gelding
forelock and there it was caught.

I no
sooner saw it then that gelding must have thought a giant bird had hold of him
in its tallows for he instantly dropped his head and took to bucking.

In the
sudden stop and rapid change of stride I about lost my seat and knew I was
going to come off so I did the only thing I could, I grabbed the reins and
turned his head into my knee.

He spun
once and that was enough for me to hook my off knee under the swell on that
side. I silently thanked God as I straightened myself back astride the still
snorting and bucking gelding.

He headed
for the cattle and I turned him back towards the pond. I headed him straight
towards that pond not knowing quite how deep it was and

…………SPLASH
we landed center of that pond.

Now that
gelding must have thought I had done everything for he just froze instantly
still, not a movement except his breathing and our heartbeats could be heard.

I quickly
reached up and pulled the small six inch strand of wire from his forelock and
petting him a bit to calm him down. The whole while wet and smelly from that
stinking pond water.

After a
few minutes my gelding calmed and grabbed himself a drink in the mid belly high
water.

After he
drank we walked out and back over to where the cattle had already found the
gate by themselves. We closed the gate and headed for the trailer.

He never
made another bad move nor has he ever bucked in the years since that episode.

I am not sure if he thinks I
am the devil and will stick my claws in him and try to drown him again or if he
just realized it wasn’t worth it, but whatever the reason he has been a great
horse ever since that spring ride.

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About Me

Dawn Nelson prides herself in being a true working cowgirl. She was born and raised on a cattle ranch in North-Eastern Washington state. Married to a cattle rancher she now calls Creston, Washington her home.
Dawn, along with her husband and their daughter, own and operate a cattle ranch in central Washington. She enjoys showing her registered cattle, riding horses, hunting, camping, writing and just about anything that involves the outdoors.
She is the winner of The Academy of Western Artist, 2010 Buck Ramsey Book of the Year Award. She was a finalist for the 2010 and 2011 Storytelling Award given out by the Western Music Association. Named first runner-up in the 2011 New York Book Festival and was named as one of the best non-fiction writers in Spokane on “The Best of Spokane” list .
Dawn Nelson currently has seven published books out, a cookbook and her first cowboy poetry CD. Her CD, titled “Then He Made Cowgirl” jumped to number four right out of the gates on the Western Ways top ten cowboy poetry albums.
Award winning author Dawn Nelson, wife, mother, rancher and genuine, hard working cowgirl.
For more information go to www.authordawnnelson.com.